The Campaign Trail
by OutCold
Summary: Set at the end of Santos' two terms in office, Santos fires Josh forcing him to become Campaign Manager for the Junior Senator of Massachusetts, a young Democrat aiming for President. K but up for language and safety. Adopted from CatAmongPidgeons.
1. Josh, You're Fired

**Hey, I'm adopting this fic for CatAmongPidgeons, with the gratefully received help of YouGottaSingAlong. We're going to do our best possible on it. The first 8 chapters do not belong to me. Notes in bold and italics are from the original author. All mistakes are Tay's, and yeah, me not bothering to beta. **

_**I own only the West Wing on DVD, I lay no claim to the genius behind it. I would, however like to thank and curse OutCold (you're welcome)****, YouGottaSingAlong and Andrew for helping and making me do this.**_

Previously on the West Wing...

President Matthew Santos walked into his Chief of Staff of almost seven years office. The calendar read 3rd September 2012. "Josh, I'd like to introduce you to Junior Senator Simon Fuller." A blonde thirty- five year old sidled into the room...

... "You want **me **to get **him** elected." Josh gave the President an incredulous look while flourishing his hand in Fuller's direction.

Santos walked to the door and put his hand on the doorknob before turning his head. "Oh, and Josh, I meant to tell you. You're fired."

"Wha-"

"You might want to find a job..."

... Donna ran down the street grabbing Josh from the back. "Josh, Ray Sullivan's running for Republican candidate." Josh turned and bashed his fist against the nearest wall.

Fuller grabbed Josh's arm. "There's something I meant to tell you..."

A voice boomed from the television, "In a surprise twist, it has been revealed by Governor Sullivan that Democrat nominee for Presidential Candidate, Junior Senator Simon Fuller of Massachusetts has been in a same-sex marriage under the State of Massachusetts for little under ten years, with singer and actor Gordon Peters"

Ray Sullivan was shown on screen, a reporter holding a recorder to his face.

"Governor Sullivan, if you receive the nomination who do you hope to be running against?"

"It would be interesting to run against a gay candidate, but the challenge would all come from Congressman Beaton. So, Beaton, yes."

"Excuse me, Governor, but a gay candidate?"

Ray Sullivan looked slightly confused by the question. "Senator Fuller."

As footage followed of Fullers and his husband kissing at the Massachusetts Gay Pride, Josh turned on his heels to face Fuller.

Simon met his eye. "Will this be a problem?"

*

Josh ran down a corridor bashing into Annabeth Schott. She gave him a wide smile. "Well, howdy. You going to welcome me to the campaign. By the way Donna is looking _great_, two kids and tucking in nicely. Congratulations."

Josh brushed of the hyperactive rant and continued storming down the corridor, "Annabeth, have you seen the news?"

Annabeth rolled her eyes as she chased after him. "I got back from an eight hour flight half an hour ago. How could I have seen the news?"

Donna's head peered out a door to see her husband/boss charging towards her. "I take it you've seen the news."

"What's on the news that has everyone so worked up?" Annabeth squealed as Donna's assistant, Chloe Beckman pulled her into the office, Josh and Donna followed. As Annabeth watched the news an expression of confusion entered her face. "We didn't know this? About nine years ago, they ran out of stories and it was all over the news. Upstart politician Simon Fuller and singer/songwriter Gordon Peters, married exactly twelve days after the ban on gay marriage was lifted in Massachusetts. None of you knew this?"

"Santos." Josh muttered, flipping out his phone. "Ronna, it's Josh get me Matt.

"Mr. President. It's pleasure to hear your voice, too. Why have you been trying to lift the federal ban on same-sex marriage for the last year?"

Santos answered on the other end of the line. Josh breathed deeply. "And you chose not to tell me this."

*

A tall dark haired man knocked on the door before sidling into Josh's office. He put the small girl attached to his sided down. Donna and Annabeth smiled encouragingly at her as she walked unsteadily towards them. Josh looked up. "We're kind of busy here..."

"Simon told me to come. I'm..."

Annabeth looked slightly flustered as she breathlessly finished his sentence. "...Gordon Peters."

Gordon nodded keeping one eye on his daughter clambering up Josh's desk, at the same time flashing a brilliant smile. "Would you like an autograph?" Annabeth coloured but Gordon smiled again, cheerfully.

Josh cleared hi throat. "And moving away from the realm of pop-"

"-Rock-"

"-stars and autographs. How are you planning on addressing this, then?"

Gordon gave Josh a look like a deer in the headlights. "Addressing what?"

Josh heaved a sigh of resignation. "I thought Santos was bad..." He stormed out of the office. "FULLER!"

Donna, Annabeth, Gordon, and even little Sophia all stared after him. Donna smirked and lifted Sophia onto her lap. "There goes what was left of his hairline."

Annabeth grinned back. "We could buy him a toupee."

_**Ta-dah. Please vote on the Vice-Presidential candidate on my poll. And review, criticism accepted, no refund.**_

**Poll is closed. Otherwise, see above.**


	2. Gay Pride

**Not mine.**

"Hey there. Um, Apparently I as meant to have come forth earlier to make sure y'all knew about the nature of the relationship between Simon and myself." Gordon in a highly secretive manner put his hand to his mouth and whispered loudly. "Don't tell anyone about twelve years of Gay Pride.

"Nah,, but honestly, I'm sorry if people hadn't realised that Simon's sexuality would affect their vote. I'm sorry if any of you here think that it would affect his ability to be a good and true President. C'mon, we're all human, aren't we? We all breathe the same air. We all have pulses. We, mainly have two eyes, two ears, two arms and two legs. We are all, in my belief, of intelligent design, with intelligence given to us. Again that's mainly, living exception standing right before you... That was a joke by the way."

A ripple of laughter passed over the crowd.

"That'll do, I suppose. It is," he paused. Josh groaned, he hated working with actors. "Saddening that there are people in this world who are so hateful of others because of something that cannot be changed. That they don't wish to change.

"When animals aren't blinded by discrimination and hate, the 'wrongness' of things they don't understand, why are we? We call them beasts; when in reality can't our own actions towards one another be described as beastly? ... Gruesome? ... Wrong? If an animal with half our brain capacity understands that discrimination isn't required, why can't we?"

A reporter raised his pencil in the air. "Mr Peters. Surely an animal is not the best example. A mother will abandon the weakest of her offspring to die. In a pack the weakest will be bullied, the last to eat, etcetera."

"Surely, Rob, you're not suggesting gays are the weakest in the pack?"

"You know what I mean, Gordon."

Gordon jumped down from the podium and worked his way through the sea of reporters and public. When he reached Robert Frost of The Washington Times, he whispered something in his ear, causing a great look of discomfort to appear on the man's face. He waded back to the podium and smiled. "I was just reminding Robert of our days back in Massachusetts. Any more questions?"

*

Donna met Gordon as he stepped down from the podium. "What did you say to that man?"

Gordon was about to give his signature grin and say something cocky, then his face fell and soberly he stated. "Robert Frost once caused me so much distress that I tried to commit suicide."

"Oh my god. How old were you?"

"Thirteen. A year before..."

He trailed off and from his face Donna had the sense not to pursue the matter. "So, when do you go back to work?"

Gordon smiled gratefully. "Three weeks. We're going to be doing The Apple Tree. The rehearsals start in three weeks, at least."

*

Governor Ray Sullivan was in a good mood. His approval ratings were sky high, he was almost guaranteed the as the Republican candidate. And he had narrowed his Vice-President choice down to the one person he wanted. He walked beside his campaign manager Allan Crowe. They turned into the office of the woman they wanted. A blonde woman stood up to greet him.

"Governor Sullivan, what do I owe the pleasure to?"

"Ray. Ms. Hayes, I want to put a request to you. As you probably know I've basically been guaranteed as the candidate for President, so I'm considering my Vice President, and, to cut to the chase, I want you to join me. Sullivan-Hayes Campaign, how does it sound?"

"I'm flattered, Governor, but I don't think..."

"I'm begging you here, to help me gain back the White House. I'm asking you to help me make a difference. What do you say?"

"I really don't..."

Ray got to his feet, Crowe followed suite, "Sleep on it. I need to know tomorrow, though."

Crowe nodded. "Thank you for your time."

*

Fuller and Josh swore simultaneously, as they read the report. Ainsley Hayes had accepted Ray Sullivan, if he won the nomination, she would be his running mate.

Fuller needed to win the nomination; Congressman Beaton wouldn't stand a chance against Sullivan-Hayes.


	3. Don't Get Into A Bloodbath

_**I know I'm leaping quickly through the nomination period. There are only going to be five chapters, as a taster, before a break in which I'm going to finish my other fics, so I can concentrate solely on this and my exams.**_

**She never managed the 5 chap thing. Loved the fic too much. =D**

Simon Fuller and George Beaton walked side by side towards the President's office. The two candidates were tied following the last Democrat debate and there was an uncomfortable silence between them until they reached Ronna. She nodded them in.

President Santos stepped forward and shook both men's hands, before muttering in Fuller's ear.

"Is Josh behaving himself?"

"Bed at nine every night, Mr President."

Santos laughed. "But where's his bed?"

"Exactly."

Santos motioned the two men to sit down. A series of photographers came in, all three men smiled. About thirty seconds later they were ushered out again and Santos turned to face them crossing his fingers.

"Gentlemen, eight years ago I was called in here by Jed Bartlet and I'm going to repeat what he told me, because he was right. And I can see you two heading where I was headed.

"I understand this is a tough situation, but we don't want to feed the press. I can see you two barely inches from ripping throats out. And I know some people will tell you that's what you should do. But we cannot allow that to happen. No attacks on each other, if you do that, we might as well hand the presidency to Sullivan on a platter. I want a nominee, no bloodshed. And if either of you oversteps the mark, I'll grab the closest megaphone and say so. And while I'm at it, don't be surprised if I happen to endorse the other candidate."

Both men nodded and were dismissed. Beaton leant over to Santos jokingly and said, "Fuller, best behaviour. We all know what can happen if the headmaster says leave. "

Fuller found the comment strange but nodded. The man hadn't been at ease all day.

Fuller had sharp ears, and he heard Beaton mutter, as he walked away, of; "Have a good day... Faggot."

Fuller grabbed his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Nothin'." Beaton shrugged it off.

"What else would you like to call me? Faggot, queer, toe-toucher, arse bandit, clay digger." Fuller pushed Beaton back. "Homo, dyke, shirtlifter. I know them all."

"Calm down, Senator." Beaton looked slightly worried as the man who was a good twenty-five years younger than him, stood before him, shaking in anger.

"You're a Democrat and a politician and you just thought that... that would be an excellent political move. Insult the opposition, straight after we've just been told_ not_ to create a bloodbath. Smart move. How long have you been playing this game? Forty years?"

That at least explained why Beaton had been avoiding him all day. He was homo-_bloody_-phobic.

"It was au-"

Fuller cut him off. "Don't, never try and tell me that it's automatic. Never. That is not a, an acceptable excuse. I don't care if you were saying that when there were still institutes advertising _shit_ about driving homosexuality out of people. You do not say that now. And you _never _say that to me."

Fuller walked away, meeting Josh and Annabeth at the door.

"How did it go?"

"I'm going home."

"Home or Home-home?"

Fuller flipped out his Blackberry, "Home-home. I need to pay my brother a visit."

Josh and Annabeth slipped behind him, as he picked up his pace.

"He has a brother?"


	4. Bartlet, Sorry, Fuller For America

_**Thanks Hannah, for the extra touch that gives the title.**_

Simon walked into the miniature headquarters of the Fuller Campaign that Donna had set up in a cheap Washington hotel. He was in a positive mood, he had successfully not watched the news for two days, Gordon had been filtering his calls, and nothing Campaign-ish had been allowed through unless it involved the nuclear destruction of the HQ which had not occurred.

That was a slight lie; there had been one campaign issue that had been brought up...

_Josiah Edward Bartlet made his way up the front drive of a home in Massachusetts, he motioned his security team to wait at the bottom of the garden. It was a nice house, quite small with the distinct look of a-child-lives-there about it. He leant forward and up, always a difficult when you're unable to make use of your legs, and rang the door bell._

_A small girl of four or five opened the door. "Daddy, there's a man in a chair here." An anxious looking father scooped her up, muffling her hair as he did so._

"_What did I tell you about opening the door, Soe? What did I tell you?" He looked to the "man in the chair". "Sorry, what can I do for you? Um, do you want a hand in or...?"_

"_That would be good." However, as Gordon stepped out to help him. A security member put his hand between them._

"_Excuse me, sir, but procedure." Jed rolled his eyes at Gordon as he let them in._

_Gordon however looked horrified a he realized who he had been speaking to. "Mr. President. I'm sorry; I'm really bad with faces." A burning smell came from a back room. "Shit. Please, come in make yourself comfortable, Soe, find Pa for the gentleman. Tell him Daddy says he's to come. And it's not Josh."_

"_Pa, come down, not Josh." Sophia tottered through the house repeating. As Gordon rushed to save his rhubarb pie, Former President Bartlet was wheeled into an open plan living space. Simon in casual slacks and a polo shirt entered after him and shook his hand._

"_It's good to meet you, sir."_

_Bartlet waved his hand. "Please... Jed. Firstly, I'm here to tell you not to give up on your campaign."_

"_I'm not giving up, sir. I just came up to clear my head, see my kid and speak to my brother."_

"_And secondly, that I'm endorsing you."_

_Simon looked taken aback. "I'm..."_

"_Have you spoken to Josh?"_

"_Not directly."_

"_Beaton's pulled out. Sandy Portland's taken over his spot. And there are rumours going about on why Beaton's pulled."_

_Simon went red. "There are?"_

"_Speak to Josh and good luck." Another slight of the hand and the security took hold of his chair and lead him out. "I'll visit your brother too, before I leave."_

"_But sir..."_

"_I know, Simon."_

"_JED!" Bartlet's chair turned. And their eyes met. "Thank you." As Bartlet left he dropped something on the ground, Simon walked over and picked it up. It was a napkin, on it was written;_

_"FULLER FOR AMERICA." Everyone knew the legend, and Simon smiled._

...Josh met him at reception. "Thank god. Never interrupt a campaign again. Not five days before the Convention."

Simon was surprisingly pleased to see him. Usually he felt Josh was a complete jerk, but today fresh and cheery and enjoying the look of permanent irritation etched on Josh's face he grinned and said, "Find me CJ Cregg and Joey Lucas, then let's go win this election."

"Nomination." Josh corrected.

"Election." Simon walked into the conference room.

*

"Fuller, you're being attacked." Annabeth woke up the Senator at his five o'clock (at seven o'clock) nap following a day catching up on the campaign travels. Simon looked up blearily. "On guns, and abortion."

She put a DVD into the machine across from him. The trademark picture of him, with mussed up hair- Annabeth referred to it as the "hunky hair"- was the first thing to come up, a title under it said "**Simon Fuller**".

"**HEALER OR HYPOCRITE?"**

"**Simon Fuller wants to take away your guns. TO STOP THE MURDER.**"

A picture of a foetus in the womb came up. "**Yet Simon Fuller wants to MURDER: HIM**"

A picture of an infant came up. "**HIM.**" A picture of a playing child."**HER.**" And a crowd. "**AND THEM.**"

"**IT'S YOUR CHOICE.**"

"**HEALER OR HYPOCRITE?**"

The picture of Fuller came back up. "**Simon Fuller, Pro-Choice, Pro-Murder."**

Simon sat upright. "That it is such a load of shit. Do they not think...?"

Annabeth walked out, she had already heard it all from Josh.


	5. Let Me Tell You A Story

_**Thanks Hayley and Hannah for this speech. It rocks, guys.**_

**Well you're very welcome. **

_**I would like to make this my tribute to the victims of the shooting in Germany. My thoughts today are with the families of the dead.**_

_Denver, Colorado, the Democratic National Convention..._

"Five minutes then you're on, Senator." Josh had just finished reading Fullers' adapted speech. "You really don't want to say this. We're lagging anyway, without this. You'll not make it better? You'll just remind everyone that you want to get rid of legal civilian firearms."

Fuller ignored him. "Do you think we could get them to play that ad before I go out? Donna..."

As Simon walked off after Donna, Josh yelled.

"_Donna, don't do anything he tells you."_

As it turned out Simon did get his way, the abortion smear ad was shown as he walked out for his speech.

"I'm sure all of you are aware that my approval ratings have dropped this past week. Mainly due to the after effects of this," He pointed over his shoulder at the screen. "You'll have probably seen in the paper some things I wrote when I was younger. A lot of people have asked me if I still stand by what I said. Well, I want to tell you a story.

On the 2nd of May 1977, two boys were born. Twin brothers, people often said they had never seen siblings so close. They played together in their back yard; learnt musical instruments and took part in sports. Even as they grew older, the two never grew apart. They were walking home one night when they were 16 years old and they were met by a group of young men who were armed legally. These men had a problem with one of the twins being gay, and his brother stepped forward to defend him. It was on that night that that boy, that man, died to protect his twin. This is not a distant issue. This is not political rhetoric. It was on that night my brother died for me.

A lot of people have asked me if I still want to ban guns. Here's my answer: - Yes. Yes I do. And no, this is not an impartial opinion. Yes, it's personal. It's _very_ personal. He was my brother.

Some of you will know my campaign manager, Josh Lyman. It will not surprise those of you who have met him to hear that he told me if I did this I'd be throwing away the election. He's a smart man, and he's right about a lot of things, but I think he's wrong this. I hope he's wrong about this. I hope the American people understand that there's no way I _would not_ want rid of the weapons that killed my brother. I hope they understand that there's a line between freedom and mass murder. I hope they understand that I'm drawing it here. I hope they vote for me in spite of that. I hope they vote for me _because_ of that.

And I have a proposition to put to the Americans who want guns as long as criminals have them; let's take them off the criminals. Let's work so that you can feel safe in your own homes. We're already trying? Well then; let's try harder. Let's try harder to stop people being killed because of religion, or race, or who they love. Let's try harder to stop the murders. Let's start by getting rid of the weapons that have the trigger to pull.

It might take a while. It might take four years. It might take eight. But this is **not** something I will back down on. This is not something I will allow to rest until the day I can visit my brother's grave knowing no one else in America will die the way he did. I don't think anyone can disagree with that.

I've told some people this before. These people have gone on to call me a hypocrite. Why? _Because I'm pro-choice. _They believe that abortion is mass murder. I don't. At the point a foetus can be aborted it is not scientifically considered a person. We must think of the rights of people. We must think about the women with careers who don't have the time for a child or even a pregnancy. The teenage girls who are trying to get good grades. The traumatised rape victims who couldn't psychologically cope with bearing a child. The women living in poverty who don't want to have a child in their situation. A woman has a right to choose. I believe that.

I don't believe in a supreme being or an afterlife. But there are still many things I do believe in. So I'm disappointed that people dislike my lack of a faith. I'm trying to think when I've said that people shouldn't be religious. I'm trying desperately but I can't, because I never said that. I accept people of all religions. All I ask is that they accept me too.

I ask that they accept my beliefs, even if they don't share them. I ask that they accept my sexuality. I ask that they _never_ say I'm worth less than they are. I've heard it before. Gordon's heard it before. Samuel heard it, and he wasn't even gay. Just being my brother made him as bad as I am in these homophobe's eyes. We all have the right to equality. I ask for that.

And I ask for hope. I ask for hope and belief. I ask you to believe that we don't need to compromise. I ask you to believe that we can make our police force, our schools, our healthcare, our social services, and our economy better at the same time. I ask you to believe that there is always room for improvement, and that that improvement is always possible. I ask you never to give up on making things better. I ask you to believe in me, in my ability to lead this great country, the United States of America."

A cheer went up, starting as a slow rumble and escalating to a rabble, a thunderous noise that was heard a mile away.

*

Josh opened the wrapped present from Annabeth, just so he could do something with his hands as he nervously awaited the news follow-up to the speech. As a toupee fell into his hands he smiled, completely oblivious to what was in his hands. "YES! YES! YES!"

He quickly glanced around, checking no one had seen. They couldn't get their hopes up until the votes came through.

_**And that's a cliff hanger. **_


	6. The Ball Starts Rolling

**I love this chap. I supported the VP candidate all along. **

"Josh, do you trust me?"

Josh raised an eyebrow as he continued monitoring a screen. "Will all due respect Senator, I trust you with the country, I do _not _trust you with this campaign."

"Good to know." Simon smiled his signature, toothpaste ad, grin. "Donna, have, Mrs. Cregg-Concannon, and Ms. Lucas arrived yet?"

"CJ's on her way, Joey's just walked in the door."

"Can you send them in when they both get here? I want to speak to them together."

Josh swivelled round on his chair as Donna left. He folded his fingers together.

"Simon. Don't take Joey as VP. I'm serious. A gay nominee will be hard enough to get elected without you throwing a Deaf nominee into the equation. We're up against Mr Republican of The Year-beer belly-but reassuring-Sullivan. He's taken the admittedly odd choice of Ainsley Hayes, but that woman is good. She may talk like a maniac, but she knows her stuff, she's experienced and she can kick Sam Seaborn's ass. We don't want to look like minority row here. If you take on Joey, one, people won't want a Deaf woman in charge of the country if anything happens to you, and two, it will look like you're trying to play the sympathy card."

Simon pulled up a chair across from him, he spoke with quiet assurance. "I've thought of all that. But I haven't chosen either yet, and I do respect your opinion, and most of the time Josh, I do trust you. But Joey's one of the two best choices. She's strong, she's assertive, and she could kick Ainsley's arse… ass, any day. She's quick-"

"She has a bad tendency of swearing at people."

"She did that once-"

"-Twice-"

"-And only to you. I agree, we need someone who can beat Ainsley, and there are only two people we can be sure of doing that, Joey Lucas or CJ Cregg. Without one of the two. We. Are. Stuffed."

Simon stood up turning to the door and signing, "_Ms. Lucas, it is a pleasure to see you again._ Ms. Cregg. Look, because I _trust _him, I'm going to leave you with Josh, and he'll explain the situation."

"I will?!"

"In a calm and completely unbiased way."

CJ smiled, "Josh will never be able to do that, Senator Fuller-"

"-Simon, why will no one just call me Simon?" He flung his hands in the air theatrically as he pulled off his shirt and stepped into the washroom at the side. "I need a shower so bad."

Joey's eyebrows shot up, "_The Greek temple of a body has to work in your favour._"

Kenny after relating this to the room turned on Joey, in mock concern, "_Can you not lust after other men? It makes me feel trivial_."

"And slightly jealous." Joey smiled, speaking out loud. "Josh, why are we here?"

"I'd like to know that too."

Josh heaved a breath, unlocking his fingers. "The Senator-"

"-SIMON-"

"- wants me to ask you two, if either of you is willing to take up the post of Democratic Vice Presidential Candidate, if he wins the nomination."

Joey looked incredulous, "He knows I'm deaf, right?"

"He doesn't think it matters. He thinks, you're strong and assertive and would lead the country in his stead duly and with the greatest respect for his- our values. And he thinks both of you can kick Ainsley's "arse"."

"I CORRECTED MYSELF."

Josh raised his voice, "Simon, if you want me to do my job, stop treating me like I'm your husband."

Simon called back, "Then stop treating me like I'm your wife."

"If I treated Donna how I treat you I wouldn't be alive."

"Eh hem, back to the point, Josh." CJ looked doubtful. "Josh, I've been saying for the last eight years I don't want to get stuck in the White House for the rest of my life. I've got a great job at the moment, I'm settled, and I have a seven year old kid needing help with her homework. I can't take the position."

Joey also remained looking sceptical. "_I wouldn't be an asset to your campaign, Josh. I would be a hindrance._"

Simon leant his ear against the door. Josh started backing up the arguments he himself had made earlier. Score. "_Shit, I do treat him like my husband. Dammit._"

"Joey, CJ. One of you has to accept, please, or we're stuffed. Likelihood is that we won't even get the nomination. But I am begging you."

CJ smiled, "Are you willing to bet anything on that?"

Josh turned round on his chair, to look at the monitor behind him. As he stared at the screen he grabbed a coat, and begun moving towards the door yelling, "FULLER! I need you fully dressed in five minutes. I'm going to find Pretty Boy Peters.

"CJ, Joey, one of you needs to be able to go out there with Simon when Santos introduces you. Don't let me down."

They heard him yell as he dashed away, "We're gonna win this baby."

-----

Santos stood up at the podium of the Democratic Convention. "It has been, and honour to serve you, and this great country for the past eight years, but now it gives me... The greatest honour and the utmost pleasure to introduce to you the leaders of our party... The next President and Vice President of these United States.

"Simon Anthony Fuller and Josephine Lucas."

Simon and Joey, arm raised, hand in hand as a united front stepped on to the stage, as Gordon and Kenny followed them out, Donna turned to Josh with a smile to match his own on her face, as on the screen scrolling repeatedly across every new channel, "_DEMOCRATIC NATIONAL CONVENTION- Democratic Ticket: Fuller-Lucas._"

Gordon holding Sophia's hand, the toddler had wildly insisted to be allowed to walk, let go and allowed Simon to hoist her up into a swing above his head, the cheering mixed with a laugh as Sophia let out a loud, high-pitched scream, which caught on the mikes and echoed across the hall. Gordon joined in the laughter briefly, before pecking his daughter, and spouse on the cheek and dashing off. Simon looked after him, astonished, and could not help wondering where he was going. Kenny and Joey's hands locked, Joey with a wide grin grabbed Simons again, as Santos patted Simon on the shoulder, he muttered in the other man's ear. "Now, the real game begins."

-----

_The Sullivan House, West Virginia..._

Ray Sullivan sat at his desk a television on low, as Fuller began his speech, he picked up his phone. "Ainsley... Time to get this ball rolling."

_**Poll Results:**_

_**Joey Lucas- 10 » 62%**_

_**CJ Cregg- 4 » 25%**_

_**Will Bailey- 2 » 12%**_

_**Unique Voters: 16**_


	7. Puppy Cannonball

_**This will focus on Annabeth's new "acquaintance" and the Lyman household to begin as I had complaints that I hadn't said a lot about the Lyman's life. It does provide a bridge to the next chapter, though, so will end in a crowded conference room, with Gordon telling us about **__**his **__**background. I actually wrote this months ago in the last week before the Easter break, so it's a lot longer than most of my chapters. ;p**_

Josh came into his dark house, slumping down on a sofa with a sigh of relief. He hadn't been home in three days, not since the Convention. Donna had been berating him about spending time with his family, but there was _never_ time. He knew how Santos must have felt during the first election. Juggling a half supportive wife and, not one but two small children with making time to run a campaign. His eldest Josiah was now six years old, and had the looks, neediness and energy of a small puppy, a wild mop of hair grew on his head and, despite Donna's best efforts to calm it down, it had a definite "Josh" air about it, Rebekah, three years younger was considerably calmer than her older brother and a miniature, rounder version of Donna. He heard a crash from the hall, here it came, _The Human/Puppy Cannonball_. Josiah crashed into his father.

"DAD!" Josiah could not speak quietly. "MUMMY, DAD'S BACK. YOU'RE BACK, DADDY. HAVE YOU BROUGHT ME ANYTHING? CAN I HAVE SOME MILK, DADDY? I WANT MILK! I WANT MILK!-"

"Okay, I'll go get you some."

"-I WANT MILK, I WANT MILK, I MANT WILK!"

Donna walked in, wearing a dressing gown and carrying a small screaming bundle, which usually could be referred to as the "calm" child, Beka. "Good to see you again." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm, and large dark circles beneath her eyes indicated that this happened regularly.

"I thought we were shipping them off to Gran's." Josh said pouring a small mug of milk for his son, before relieving his wife of the screaming bundle. Gently bobbing, up and down of his heels and shushing his youngest had an almost instant effect on her. She stopped screaming, and began sucking her thumb. For some reason Josh had always had more success at calming down his children than his wife.

Donna turned back towards her bedroom, groaning loudly. "Enjoy putting them back to bed, Joshua."

----

Annabeth sat in Josh's chair; she was covering him for a couple of days, while he caught up on sleep and having a family. Something she had never succeeded in gaining. There had been about fifty boyfriends, but she had always known from the moment she set eyes on them they weren't right. After 2005 her expectations in them had risen to a bar that she doubted anyone would ever meet. Some men were just too full of themselves, not to mention sure of themselves. Everything was about _themselves_.

A knock on the door brought her out of family-pining-mode. "Come on in."

"Hello. I'm Leon, Leon McBeth. Sorry t-t-to disturb you so early." Leon had an English accent, _Private schooled, disguises the accent underneath_, Annabeth considered, with a stutter. "I'm with _The G-Guardian _p-paper. I'm from Manchester so it always seemed like the p-p-paper for me."

"It's fine. I take it I can help you with something?" She stood up to shake his hand. He was a little under a foot taller than her.

"I c-can help you. I ho-p-pe. Miss Schott." He was middle aged with light brown hair that was beginning to grey round the temples. In contrast to Annabeth's irate generalisations on men, he was unsure, not nervous but obviously did not wish to inflict whatever he had come with upon her. "The p-pap-p-a-par-az- the media have got hold of P-P-Peters' criminal record. It's not g-good." He handed her the file. "I th-thought I should p-probably b-break ranks and see Mister Lyman ab-bout this, b-but I was d-d-directed t-to you. There are v-vandalism charges on th-three counts, p-participation in v-violent p-protest. Nothing for ab-bout fifteen years b-but the op-p- the Rep-publicans are g-going to love this. Someone should make a state-statement."

Annabeth stared at him; British journalists even if they're on your side don't tend to be a Campaign's best friend. Usually it would be a lawyer that came in at ten o'clock in the evening to tell you that. She could think of only one unfortunate reason for his intervention. "Are you gay, Mr McBeth?"

"C-call me Leon. And no. I just want t-to see a D-Democrat in office for a few more t-terms. I d-don't want F-Fuller to lose over something that his husband d-d-did over fifteen years ago, that maybe could be averted b-by someone t-telling the right p-p-person, rather than finding out on the news lat-t-ter."

"Josh is going to go ballistic."

"G-g-gun control, abortion, g-gay, d-d-deaf VP and an act-tivist of a husband. If I was a p-pessimistic chap, I'd say you were screwed."

Annabeth looked over the file. "We're screwed."

----

Josh's phone rang from his bedside table, and as he leant over to answer it he felt a sharp elbow dig into his ribs. "I love you too, darling." He responded as he blearily answered the mobile. "Annabeth. Annabeth, it's twenty past ten can't this wait till lat-"

He rolled of his bed and began pulling on a pair of trousers, one handed, the other holding the phone to his ear. "Wait a second, I've gotta get a shirt on." He put the phone back up to his ear after trying to put on one of Donna's shirts. "I want _everyone- _I don't care if they're in Rome, or Sydney they are in HQ in one hour. Everyone in. Simon, Joey, Gordon, CJ, for Christ's sake, find Toby while you're at it."

"Donna, set up the web cam. I'm going to need your help."

She groaned. "You always need my help. Can't you do something-?" Josh dragged her bedcovers off and left the room with them slung over his shoulder.

"See you in a couple of hours, honey."

----

To say the conference room at HQ was crowded would be a vast under-exaggeration, the table had been wheeled out and four laptops sat on top of filing cabinets, each with a webcam window open. The great and the good of the campaign and prior campaigns were gathered together. Up on webcam, Donna Moss-Lyman with Josiah curled on her lap was looking increasingly irate, Jed Bartlet (nobody was entirely sure how he had found out about the emergency meeting at eleven o'clock in the evening), taking part in his first official meeting as senior advisor to the Democrat Presidential Campaign, President Matt Santos, who had been alerted by Sam (both men had been in office late) and Danny Concannon, who had received a tip-off from CJ. As well as the four on webcam, Toby Ziegler, Annabeth Schott, Sam Seaborn, CJ Cregg, Will Bailey, Arnie Vinick, at Santos' request, Leon McBeth, Rona Beckman, Charlie Young, who had been hired for legal assistance, Simon Fuller, Joey Lucas, and Kenny Thurman, many other members of the campaign team and finally, in a corner, was an extraordinarily meek looking Gordon Peters, all standing or sitting in the room. Finally, Josh attempted to storm in, causing a slight snigger from Toby, as he got stuck squeezing past Annabeth, Leon and Charlie.

"Right, guys. I know it's late, and I'm sorry sir," he nodded towards Santos and Bartlet. "for getting some of you out of bed. I guess the "I want _everyone_" was taken more literally than I intended. We are here, cause less than seventy-two hours after Senator Fuller won the nomination, we have hit a roadblock that will occur within the next five hours. Thanks to Mister Scott for bringing it to our attention. Okay, we all knew this was going to be difficult anyway due to the… policies held by the senator..."

"Please, call me Simon." Simon groaned.

"…which we obviously managed to overcome them to win the nom. But now we are faced with the problem of his husband…"

"That's a new one, The Problem, I might call my next album that." Gordon attempted to lighten the drowsy and tense atmosphere, but failed dismally so shut up and went back to looking guilty.

"… Gordon Peters."

Jed raised his hand. "I think, Josh, we should give Mr Peters the chance to tell us what the Problem is himself."

Several people nodded, Kenny translated for Joey, who nodded slightly later than the others. Gordon shifted his chair to be facing the others slightly better. "I think what Josh is getting at is that some people don't think that I would make a great role model for their children, and suchlike. Which in part, I believe is the role of the First, er, Gentleman.

"Um, my background isn't exactly what you'd call to the line. I went off the rails in my teens, but I swear I had as good a reason as any for it."

Simon snorted, "I didn't go off the rails."

"You're smarter than me, that's why it's you running for President and you that got the scholarship to Oxford. Plus, your parent's didn't care…"

Donna interrupted quietly, "Some of us would like the story so we can get back to solving Josh's _Problem_."

"Sorry, Ma'am. Right, my parents kicked me out of the house when I was fourteen; a year after Simon's brother was… you know. They said I was a sinner and, well they yelled some pretty awful things at me, so I moved in with some band members, Simon was in Britain, Oxford, he offered to let us stay at his place-"

"Which was abandoned and trashed when I got back."

"-I forgot to lock the door-" Gordon whipped round defensively. Josh cleared his throat at the same moment as Jed, Santos and Toby. "Anyway, I fell in with some nutcase vegans. _Meat Is Murder, So Let's Murder People_ types, I didn't realise that's what they were though. I obviously knew they were radicals but... By the time I was sixteen I had a six month prison sentence, for three counts of vandalism, one where a butcher's was completely trashed, the man's wife was badly injured by some of my fr- accomplices. Anyway, I got shit scared by Simon, over mail, into turning myself in and grassing on the others. I appealed after two months and was let out.

"I moved back to Massachusetts, but I had nowhere to live. Again. So I had to make a bit of cash through music, built my life up again. Vegan still, but I avoided the guys who had got me into trouble. Then, I swear everything was on the straight and narrow after that."

Joey/Kenny spoke first. "This is going to blown up well out of proportion."

Toby nodded. "And it wouldn't actually take too much puff."

"All the media have t-t-to d-do is shift the wording here and th-there, and they can safely make it _look_ like you were one of the guys who d-did the actual at-t-tacking."

"I did just as bad. I encouraged them."

"You did what?!" Simon's eyes flashed round.

"Don't look at me like that Simon, I didn't stand at the side going "that's it, Larry, bash her brains out next." I was well gone by the time they were doing that. CCTV shows it. But I helped plan the trashing, and six guys with bats, what the fuck did I think was going to happen?" Gordon buried his head in his hands. "How was I meant to know that this would affect a campaign fifteen years into the future? I'm sorry, Si. I'm really sorry."

"I should have realised this would come up at some point." Simon put an arm round Gordon and held him tight. "Really I should have remembered to tell Josh shitloads, but with everything going on…" He trailed off.

Chloe, Donna's assistant, who had been the only person monitoring the news, in the outside room suddenly burst in. She looked at the assembly in astonishment, confused as to who to report to she announced to the room in general. "There's been bombings. London, Vancouver, New York and Paris. All over the news, all at the same time roughly. There's no death toll yet, but it's likely to be large. Very large. Nobody's taken responsibility yet either."

Santos picked up a phone which had just begun ringing. "Sam, Rona, I need you two back." His line cut off and the two left the room in a hurry.

Bartlet spoke. "Josh, I hate to say it but… our problem is going to be a tiny article on page twenty for three weeks thanks to this. It sounds bad-"

"-but those bombings just saved your ass, for the moment." Toby finished. "Can we go now?"

_**Now isn't that an easy way to overcome a difficult problem.**_

_**Over 2,000 words. My new record.**_

_**Please review even if you didn't like it or only have "constructive criticism" to give. Tell me what you think of Leon. He's going to buy Annabeth coffee in the next chapter, where will this lead?**_


	8. Coffee And Carrot Cake

"Sam! Thank god you're here." Santos ran his hand through his hair, causing it to stick up on end. "I have calls from everywhere coming in. I need you to answer the French Prime Minister; he's calling on the behalf of the President. I think I just told him that if he thinks his President is busy, how much does he think I have on my hands? You may need to make amends there."

"On it, Mr President."

"And Sam."

"Yes." Sam turned, his hand still on the doorknob.

"Can you remember when the Brits have their elections?"

"It was meant to be… The day after tomorrow, sir."

"Right." Santos turned slightly vaguely towards his phone. "Prime Minister of Great Britain first, then."

----

Josh ripped open his morning paper, all three of them, anxiously scanning for the article on Gordon. He heaved a sigh of relief when he finally found Bartlet's predicted inch long article on page five, before turning back to the front page news. Each newspaper had pictures the whole way through, already showing burning buildings in Vancouver, a wrecked underground station in London, fire and rescue services swarming the platforms, New York, there were graphic pictures of people being dragged from their cars underneath a collapsed flyover and Paris, the dust and rubble ridden area where the Arche de la Défense and the surrounding area had been.

Toby, who had chosen to remain around HQ, rather than returning to his day job at the Bartlet Memorial Library walked in on Josh. "Does nobody knock anymore?"

"Josh, you've got to get to work. People will read the inch long article, you don't want Fuller to look like he's hiding from the bombings coz his boyfriend's in the papers."

"Since when did you care what Fuller looks like?"

"Since he became the Democrat's only hope at another term in the Oval Office."

"Have you been talking to a Leon McBeth?"

"What?"

"Never mind." Josh swung his legs off his desk and picked up his phone. "Simon. Yeah, we need to make a statement.- No. Nothing big, that would be pompous, just at the Connecticut stop make a mention, thank anyone who's turned up for being there even on such an awful-devastating will do, yeah- day. So on, so forth. We need to get you back there some other time too. Make up for the lack of audience.- No, I cancelled New Jersey. After Connecticut you're to come back to Washington.- Of course HQ. Where else?"

Donna swung her head round the door, "Josh, your mum's on the phone."

"Can't you tell her I'm busy?"

"I'm not your secretary, Joshua."

She left. "It was easier when you were."Josh called, albeit quietly, after her.

"What was that, honey?" Donna leaned back in smiling sweetly.

"I love you and have a good day… dear." Josh picked back up his phone. "I should… call Mum back."

----

Leon knocked on Annabeth's door. There was no answer so he peered through the window. She lay asleep across her desk so, armed with coffee and cake, he let himself in. "Latte and c-carrot cake. I d-d-didn't think you w-wh-would have eaten."

Annabeth looked up blearily. "Huh?"

"Latte and c-carrot cake. I d-d-didn't think you w-wh-would have eaten. I m-m-m-made the cake m-myself, the latte I'm afraid was b-bought at St-t-tarbucks. It should be g-good, though. I b-b-brought you sugar." He put down five sachets of sugar. "I th-thought I should wake you up b-b-before someone with less orth-thodox methods d-did."

"Oh, this is gorgeous, Leon." Annabeth spoke though a mouthful of carrot cake. "You could go into business with this."

He sat down opposite her and smiled. "Th-thank you."

"Honestly, this is to _die _for." She leant over to pick up a crumb that had fallen onto her lap. Realising that she had chosen poor words under the circumstances.

"I'm g-glad you like it." He was by this point beaming. Annabeth looked back up at him, realising, what he was attempting to steel himself into doing was never going to happen at this rate. Many women might have encouraged him to say it himself, but Annabeth thought the pressure might give the journalist a heart attack.

"Are you free for breakfast tomorrow, Leon? I would suggest lunch or dinner, but Toby and Josh have been known to barricade the doors to keep us in."

For once Leon spoke with only a trace of a stutter or shake in his voice, "Breakfast would be fantastic."

----

As expected the turnout in Connecticut was five reporters, one cameraman, and twenty odd people who had chosen to come out and see the nominee for themselves. Simon followed Josh's orders. Brief condolences towards all those caught in the terrorist attacks, no jokes in the speech. Brief Q&A on some of his policies and he was out of there. Josh met him at the bottom of the stairs. "Santos has made his statement, so has Sullivan."

Simon was handed an umbrella by an FBI agent. "Thank you- What was Ray's turnout?"

"Considerably bigger than this. He was in New York when the bombings took place so he told them a bit more of a personal… thing." Josh waved his hands to emphasise an anticlimactic finish.

"How far was he from-"

"Two blocks."

Fuller stepped into a black car after Josh. He groaned before sarcastically adding, "Great."

_**Isn't a guy who can cook a great thing? Review please. Argh... I'm late out. Please review, I'll get back to you in the morning.**_

**Ahh, I love Leon so much. Isn't he perfect? And this is where it all comes down to me . . . unless it's down to Hannah. Thanks for the support, mate, even if you refused to adopt it yourself………*grumbles*. **


	9. Royally Screwed

**Disclaimer: This thing destroys my soul. **

**A/N: It's a really short filler chapter, but I have to start work on this at some point. **

**A/N2: Merry Christmas to Tay. I know I haven't written much (read any) of this, but as soon as I have the time to really focus on it, I will.**

* * *

Simon stepped into his campaign headquarters and was hit by the flow of conversation, none of it directed at him. Joey, Kenny, and Josh stood to one side, and though Josh seemed calm, he could see a look in his campaign manager's eye that said he was longing for a fight.

"It's been reported in the Post that the Joint Chiefs are uncomfortable with having Kenny in the Sit. Room."

"Then the _Joint Chiefs_ can learn sign language," Kenny interpreted.

"We can't say that."

"Why not?"

"It sounds disrespectful to the Chiefs."

"It _**is **_disrespectful to the Chiefs!" Joey yelled, abandoning the use of Kenny.

---

Donna cornered Toby by her desk as he walked by. "Toby! Me and some of the others have been having a debate – I think, and Chloe agrees, that if the Senator wore a black tie with a black suit, he would look like he was going to a funeral."

"And you're telling me this because?" Toby said, in his typical tone.

"What do you think?"

He massaged his temple, closing his eyes. "Donna, you know I wouldn't care if Fuller put on a yellow tie and a neon green suit, why are you asking me?!"

"I was just looking for your opinion," she said, in a slightly offended tone.

"He should wear the black tie."

"Why? He looks like he's going to a funeral!"

"Because the black tie people haven't asked _me _about it!"

---

He cleared his throat loudly, and five heads snapped around to look at him, Kenny tapping Joey's shoulder. "Good morning, Senator," they chorused, sounding like guilty children.

He took a deep breath. "Donna, give me the tie, don't give me the tie, chances are if it looks bad, Soph and Gordon won't let me wear it anyway. Toby, do not implant ideas in her head, neon green is not my colour."

"It's vaguely disturbing that you know that, sir," Toby quipped.

"Simon," was his only response. "And Josh, you're my campaign manager. Stop picking fights with the Democratic Vice-Presidential candidate because you're in a bad mood, and start on thinking how we deal with the fact that the next polls are out tomorrow and we're going down six points."

"Senator, can I ask that you don't say that in front of a camera?"

"We're going down six, Josh."

"Sure we are, just not in front of the cameras."

Simon let the point slide. "I need an office in this place."

As soon as he brought this up, Donna, Toby, Joey and Kenny, slipped away.

"Thanks for the support guys!" Josh yelled after them, before turning back. "You don't get one."

"I need to read up on immigration. I have four bills, five memos and a Wikipedia page."

"I don't care."

Simon sat in the nearest chair, at the desk of a speechwriting underling, and pulled a file from his bag.

"Senator, really?"

"Yes, Josh, really."

-----

Annabeth skipped through the doors humming to herself chirpily. The first thing she saw was Simon, sitting resolutely at his desk in front of an exasperated Josh and a somewhat terrified speechwriting intern. "You know you're not meant to do that, Senator," she scolded as she slowed her skip to a bouncing walk. The… date, yes date, with Leon had been wonderful, he was a genuinely sweet and caring guy, he'd listened to her, and been… genuine and sweet and caring. She looked up at the TV screen, dampening her mood. It was Sullivan's press conference, repeating on every news channel. "I'm calling a meeting," she announced. "My office."

"No can do," said Simon. "If I get up, Josh will throw me out the building."

"Fine. Everyone pull up a chair!!"

There was a loud scuffling as everyone hastened to get near.

"We need to do something about this," Josh began.

Annabeth shot a mock glare at him. "Exactly my point. Let's brainstorm."

The room fell silent.

"It's a terrorist attack," the Senator's voice was grave. "There's nothing we can do, and we shouldn't even be talking about it that way. I want to win guys, but this one's out of our hands." His cell phone went off, and he groaned. "And as much as I hate the pleasure this will have give Josh, I have to go."

Josh's fist moved at his side, a miniature sign of triumph.

"So we're still screwed," concluded Annabeth.

"Screwed," agreed Josh.

"Royally screwed," added Toby, as the press conference clips began to play over again.

* * *

**Merry Christmas everyone!!**


	10. Four Years, Book It

**Disclaimer: Ha. Ha. Haha. Ahaha. Ha.**

**A/N: This isn't the end of the fic. It is a somewhat final chapter, but I plan to stick to the original author's... uhh... plan, so it isn't the end yet. Just so you know.**

**A/N2: I will finish this fic, someday. I promised.**

**

* * *

**

The following weeks were full of the most desperate campaigning even Josh had ever seen. The Senator shook hundreds of thousands of hands and delivered his stump speech so many times that he'd started ad-libbing and incorporating audience participation – despite Josh's firm advice to stick to the script. Annabeth, for one, seemed to find this hilarious, but she was in a good mood despite the stress of the campaign. It wasn't hard to work out why, with Leon MacBeth on her heels like a devoted puppy.

Donna and some of the others had come to a compromise of what suit and tie Simon should wear on Election Day, it was a very dark grey, so that it almost looked black, and the tie had a subtle dark blue and black diagonal stripe. Well, the campaign staff took credit, but on looking at it, Simon could tell that his husband had been pulled in to lend a hand.

"You like it?" Gordon asked, grinning as he tried it on for the first time.

Simon tugged at the cuffs, "Depends if I win," he said, smiling nervously. "If I win we can have it framed."

Gordon shrugged. "If you lose we can always burn it I guess."

"How much did it cost?"

Looking away sheepishly, Gordon refused to answer.

"If I lose we can always give it away."

Gordon mumbled something about preferring the arson idea, and wrapped his arms around Simon's waist from behind.

"Stop stressing, darling. You've done all you can."

Simon sighed and relaxed, worming his way around to gently kiss Gordon's lips.  
Sophia, walking by the door, pushed it open a little to see them embracing, stated "Yuck," and decided that going to play with Pa and Daddy could wait.

…

Ray Sullivan was feeling pretty confident. Not definitely going to win confident, but the polls were in his favour. He didn't tell anyone he was feeling confident, of course, that would be a sure way to jinx the result. Still, the mood in the campaign headquarters was, panicked, yes, frantic, yes, but not quite desperate. He brushed himself down and prepared for his last television interview.

…

"_How do you think the attacks affected your campaign?"_

"_They didn't," Sullivan answered immediately. _

"_Being so close to them didn't affect you?"_

"_Of course it affected me. It terrified me, I'll happily admit, but it also fuelled the fire of my love for America and my desire to win so that I can do right by this country. The attacks affected me, as a person, and therefore probably as a candidate, but no changes were made to my campaign."_

"Bullshit," stated Donna, flicking off the TV. "You'll make yourself ill watching this stuff, Josh."

"Donnaaaaaaaaa," he whined. "Give me the remote!"

She looked at it, flipped it around in her hand, and smiled.

"Nope. It is in custody until after the election. Now come spend some quality time with the children and I. Josiah wants to play Monopoly."

"You expect me to play _Monopoly_ the day before Election Day?"

Looking as though she were considering the question in great depth, she finally nodded.

"Yes, I do."

…

A crèche had been set up in campaign headquarters, to the amusement of most of the workers. Josiah, Beka and Sophia had been placed in a room with some unfortunate volunteers to look after them, as all of their parents were busy obsessing about exit polls and waiting for the results to come through.

True to form, Josh had holed up in his office with a TV on and a map of America on a whiteboard; it didn't matter to him that they had an interactive one on a screen in the main bullpen. Everyone had the good sense not to point this out to him, or in fact go anywhere near him.

The rest were tapping at computer keyboards, calling contacts, and generally trying to feel useful even though there was nothing left that they could do. The only exception was the Senator, sitting with a semblance of calm next to Gordon, the only sign of his nerves being that he was clutching his husband's hand so tightly that it had began to go white. Occasionally he would stand, pace into the crèche, try to play with Sophia, realise that he was too distracted, and go back to where he'd been sitting. He'd done this five times in the last half hour.

Leon was scribbling notes for an Election Day story, and Annabeth for a press conference, but they kept looking up to meet each other's eye with a shaky smile.

Like Josh, Toby was in his office, but he wasn't colouring in a map. With the TV on in the background, and the reactions of everyone else to really tell him how it was going, he was pacing back and fourth, sitting down, bouncing a rubber ball, standing up, pacing back and forth, sitting down…

CJ and Danny, wanting to be in the thick of the action, had turned up, left their child in the crèche with the exasperated volunteers, and then joined Toby in his office – he looked surprised at the company, but didn't object.

President Matt Santos was in the Oval Office with Jed Bartlet, who he'd invited to share the stressing with him. Helen had also joined them, which she had at first refused to do, but eventually given in. They were talking about what would happen if he won, what would happen if he didn't, looking with one eye at the other occupants of the room and with the other at the TV keeping them up to date.

…

"So," said Simon.

Josh, sitting on the end of his desk, looked at the now coloured map. "So," he agreed.

"I'm sorry, Josh."

The campaign manager shrugged. "Don't worry about it, Senator."

"Simon. We're not campaigning anymore, give me that much."

Josh laughed shortly. "At least I never have to do this again."

Simon Fuller laid a reassuring hand on Josh's shoulder, then silently turned to walk out the door.

Just before leaving, he looked back.

"Four years," he said, smiling. "Book it."

* * *

***lip wobbles* I wanted him to wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin. But, CatAmongPidgeons' plan and all that. *lip wobbles again***


End file.
